


Who By Fire?

by kingsandkeys



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Far Cry: New Dawn Spoilers, M/M, Multi, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:43:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23209480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsandkeys/pseuds/kingsandkeys
Summary: And who by fire, who by water?...And who shall I say is calling?It's been 14 years since the sky rained fire. John and Jacob and Josiah survived.
Relationships: Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Jacob Seed/John Seed
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	1. Who in the Sunshine?

Hope County’s emergence from the bunkers was like hungry caterpillars breaking from an egg; Jacob, John and Josiah were no different. It was both cautious and sudden, all at once. Josiah, the most prepared prepper Jacob had ever met, had a Geiger counter stowed away, a thick plastic suit and a working knowledge of nuclear fallout. He had crept out, carefully tested the landscape, and when it had proven safe for human life, he’d burst from the earth with a joyous shout.

Jacob, at 54 well-worn years old, had been rather slower emerging, war wounds and old bullet scars dragging him down. John had followed behind his eldest brother. Jacob noticed, but did not acknowledge, the tears seeping down John’s face.

“Eden,” John had whispered. The rolling fields of long grasses before them, of green and gold and strange-but-glorious pink, had nodded in agreement.  
~

It had been a few years since then. The three men knew there were other survivors spread through the landscape, but they’d yet to meet any. Josiah, often thought odd in his former life, had proven to be unusually skilled in survival. He had easily built a system of water filtration, which led to irrigation for the seeds and roots he’d had saved away underground. He’d had a seed vault of the usual: apple seeds, potatoes, a variety of beans, kale, carrots, you name it. But he’d also had the unusual; he’d had cotton, he’d had tobacco, he’d had a hundred other things that were still in their little air-tight containers safe underground. Waiting for crop-rotation, or more survivors, or John getting pissy about wanting different foods.

By year three, they’d had soft cotton fabric, woven on a giant loom Josiah had constructed for himself, tucked away in a shed that John had built. In thanks for the support of his extra-unexpected hobbyist knowledge, Josiah had found berries to dye the cotton blue. John had cried again when presented with soft, barely pilled sky-blue fabric for his own use.

He made shirts of course.

By year five, Jacob had proclaimed his herd of weird cows and hutch of weird rabbits fully domesticated. He often hummed a very old song to himself as he walked amongst his animals. He thanked each animal when he killed it for food and kept a small bone as a memento. He made them into deceptively pretty windchimes. A formerly wild weird dog shadowed his every step.

In year eight, fourteen years after the world as they knew it died in flames, they finally had visitors.  
~

Jacob was under a mostly intact car they’d found and painstakingly hand-towed home, with John leaned over beside him, distractedly handing down tools while he sketched designs in charcoal for a new outbuilding on Josiah’s lumpy homemade paper.

Josiah was a way’s away, drying and braiding soft washed wool over a laundry line. A freshly-sheared, lightly-pink sheep bleated, contented, nearby.

A small head of dark hair popped over the closest hill, and shrewd young eyes took in the building complex. Main house, several outbuildings, including a greenhouse made of mismatched tarps. Small fields, pastures, a tiny orchard, henhouse, doghouse. All fenced in by wood and rope. Also fenced in: sheep, chickens, rabbits, cows… A moose with a collar.

“Dad! Survivors!”

Josiah swung the rifle at his back to his eye in an instant, Jacob smacked his head on the undercarriage of the car, and John ducked behind the car with a handgun.

Josiah paused at the sight of a small teen girl crawling over the hill with a huge smile on her face and a too-big rifle on her back.

“Hi!” She stumbled towards Josiah with her hands up, and as soon as a man who looked very like her came over the rise, weapons holstered, he lowered his rifle.

“Well, hi,” he said as she came near. “Where’re ya’ll from?” His voice dropped to a friendly Deep Southern twang, even as his hand discreetly clenched the knife at his hip, seemingly only resting in an open gesture.

The girl, partially Asian, but very visibly the man’s child, opened her mouth, but her scruffy, blond father beat her to answer. “Down away South of here. Built a little town.” He was eying Josiah and the set-up behind him suspiciously. He turned to his daughter. “Thought you said survivors. Plural.” He watched Josiah from the corner of his eye.

The girl beamed. “I did! There’s two others over by the car!”

Josiah cocked an eyebrow. “Observant, girl.”

“Carmina Rye!” She shoved a hand at him to shake. He did, a smile quirking his mouth at the side. “And my dad, Nick.” Her voice was boisterously loud with excitement.

“Josiah Stone, nice to meet’cha.” He turned over his shoulder. “C’mon and meet the neighbors!”

A muffled “No!” came back. Both Josiah and the other two wrinkled their brows in confusion.

“Uhh, give me a sec,” Josiah murmured distractedly. “They might be shy after so long with just the three of us.” He quirked a little smile at Carmina as he wandered to the car.

She beamed at his back, hands clasping in excitement around her rifle strap. A prolonged quiet argument ensued by the rickety vehicle, and Carmina’s smile dimmed as she and her father shared a look.

A bright head of elaborately braided red hair popped up from beneath the car, and the huge man attached approached the two newcomers. Nick felt a growing sense of dread as he recognized the scars and scowl beneath the Viking braids and greying beard.

“No,” he said, straight into the face of Jacob Seed. “Nope, no. You died.”

Jacob huffed a deprecating laugh, and, coming up behind, John scoffed. “Suppose I died too?”

Nick’s mouth simply dropped open at the sight of the slim man, clad in familiar, if unrefined, sky-blue, dwarfed behind his brother. With full horror on his face, Nick’s hand clutched a spot high up on his chest. Carmina looked wildly confused. As did Josiah.

There was a short beat of silence, as they all stared at one another, then Nick Rye grunted and bodily launched himself at John Seed, hands curled into grasping claws.  
Jacob caught him around the middle and used his still-considerable muscle to heft Nick back a few feet. Not hard enough to hurt him, or even knock him down, but enough that Carmina could slide between the men and wave her hands in her father’s face.

“Dad! Stop!” Nick went back to clutching his chest, and glared at John, panting heavily.

“I’m uh… gonna guess you all know each other?” Josiah stuck one hand in the pocket of his threadbare and patched jeans, the other back to its deceptively lazy sprawl over the hilt of his knife.

“Dep… Dep said you died!” With his voice strangled, Nick seemed seconds from tears.

“Dep lied,” Jacob said calmly, with a vague shrug.

“Wrath was a very skilled liar,” John hissed, offended. “She shoved my brother and I, near mortally wounded, in what she thought was an abandoned prepper bunker. And left us to rot. She called it Mercy.”

Josiah snorted. “Wasn’t abandoned. I just wasn’t home.”

Nick rounded on Josiah. “Why did you help them?! These- These cultist assholes?”

At that, Josiah and Carmina both brightened in understanding. Then Josiah shrugged. “I wasn’t around for that shit. I lived on a houseboat on the southern lake and didn’t talk to anyone. Didn’t have anyone to talk to.” He shrugged again. “Only came back when I heard the end coming on the radio. Went down to my bunker and found two guys really sloppily trying not to bleed out. Then the bombs dropped.”

Carmina near-giggled with her new understanding. “Oh! So, you guys are like those New Eden people up North!”

Nick hissed through his teeth, but as he opened his mouth to say something, John shoved past his brother and clutched at Josiah’s arm with bruising intensity, blue eyes narrowed like lasers on Carmina.

“Did you say New Eden?!” He seemed almost strangled.

“No.” Nick’s face was hard, closed. “No, hush, Carmina,” he snapped as his daughter opened her mouth. “We ain’t giving them anything, not even information. Not these bastards.”

John’s face immediately fell into the terrifyingly angry, cruel lines that Nick was best used to. He swapped from clutching Josiah, to grabbing Nick by the collar and twisting until his tee was tight against his throat. “You will tell us everything, Nick Rye,” he hissed. “I will pull it out of you- “

His sentence didn’t get a chance to end as three things happened almost at once: Carmina grabbed towards her father, Josiah’s hand came down in a chop onto John’s wrist, and then, once his hand reflexively loosened, Jacob’s arm went around John’s throat, yoking him backwards.

The whole group fell away from each other. Jacob had John in a tight arm bar, dragging him back. Josiah backed sideways, lifting his gun, not to aim, but in readiness. Carmina had Nick’s shirt in her fists and had stumbled them both backwards.

Jacob was first to speak, but it wasn’t to the group at large. His face tucked tight to the still-dark hair on top of John’s head, almost a nuzzle, and he said, “John, you know better.”

To the amazement of the newcomers, John immediately deflated. Jacob’s arm moved to brace his brother across the chest, more comfort than restraint.  
“But he knows… He knows everything.” He slumped further, seemingly only held upright by his brother’s beefy arm. “Joseph…”

Nick’s mouth dropped open when Jacob only tucked his face into the back of John’s neck. Such an overt, public show of affection from the Wolf of the Whitetails. Josiah let his gun again fall to his side and approached the father and daughter, hands open.

“Alright, we got off to a real shit start here, Nick and Carmina Rye.”

“Uh, yeah! Your friend just tried to choke my dad!” Carmina edged in front of her father and stood with her hands on her hips, full defiance. Josiah couldn’t fight off his smile.

“An’ you were more’n ready to defend him.” His smile fell again. “But he does know better,” a sharp glance behind at John punctuated his sentence. “And I’d like to apologize for the whole thing.”

He could tell Carmina was an optimist by nature, because her glare softened into a put-upon look as she grumbled, “He should be the one saying sorry.”

Josiah turned fully to look at John, one brow raised. John tried not to look back, but then Jacob shoved him forward. He stumbled to a stop beside Josiah and fiddled his thumbs, still watching the ground. His mouth twisted, then, “I am sorry, Nick. I know better.”

He looked up from under his pretty dark lashes at Nick, still standing flabbergasted by the whole exchange. But then a shadow passed over the blonde’s face once more.

“What are you sorry for, you bastard?” He spit. John jerked back like he was slapped. “What do you know better about? Tell me, what the fuck do you think you’ve learned?” His voice rose with every word, until it was a shriek that sent the content little sheared sheep nearby running with a bleat.

“Dad,” Carmina whispered, laying a hand on his arm. He was shivering with anger.

“No, Carmina. No. These men tortured me, tortured your godmother, probably got her killed, spread lies about your mother, killed, maimed…” He ripped up the front of his ratty tee to show a gnarled, rectangular scar across his chest. Faintly, lines could be seen, indicating there had once been a pattern in the rectangle. “That asshole did this to me!” He let his shirt go.

John slapped a hand over his mouth, having gone sheet white, and stumbled hastily to a nearby fencepost; he then proceeded to use it to hold himself up as he threw up noisily in the dirt. Josiah sighed, heavily, and went to him.

Jacob, on the other hand, just frowned at the ground. He seemed to chew on something for a moment, words stuck behind his teeth. Finally, a sigh, then he looked up to Carmina’s disbelieving face.

“Your dad’s right. I personally did some real horrible shit to Hope County, and my brothers did just as bad.” He glanced over to where Josiah was holding John, stroking his hair back as John’s shoulders shook with silent sobs. “We’ve had… a good few years to realize it.” His bright braids gleamed in the light as he shook his head and looked back to Nick. “You should probably leave. We’ll leave you be, if you’ll do the same.”

Nick didn’t bother with a word as he tugged a struck-silent Carmina along away South.  
~

It took a few days for John to speak.

Josiah and Jacob weren’t worried per se, but John hadn’t had a silent spell in a couple of years, so they were… attentive. One or the other would keep John by their side, giving him tasks and chatting to him out loud. Affection and casual touches abounded.

Finally, five days after the altercation with the Ryes, while the three were tucked up in the huge, straw-filled, soft woven bed John and Josiah had made together (which Jacob had immediately, and laughingly dubbed “their Nest”), John had buried his face into Josiah’s bare chest and spoke.  
“We should go find them.”

Jacob, who had been peaceably tying braids into Josiah’s hair, jolted badly. He reached over to gently peel John back. “What?”

Josiah’s hands immediately stroked hair from the older man’s face, staring down at him. “Johnny? We should find who?”

John wouldn’t meet their eyes. “New Eden… and the Ryes.”

Jacob grumbled. “The Ryes don’t want to see us anytime in this life, John.” He grumpily resettled himself. “And I don’t know if finding remnants of the Project would be…” He trailed off.

“John, baby,” Josiah cupped John’s cheeks and forced his face up. “For one, it can’t be good for you two to ‘come back from the dead’ as the Project’s Heralds. And for two…” He sighed. “Baby, ya don’t know that Joseph’s even there, could just be leftovers from the commune.” He frowned sadly as tears welled in John’s eyes.

Jacob reached over Josiah’s shoulder to thumb a few tears off John’s face and swiped his wet thumb over John’s lower lip. “John,” his voice a low rumble. “You can’t go back to being that man, who you were for the Project. I won’t let you.”

John’s hand, more workworn than before the Collapse, tattoos gently fading with age, came up to press Jacob and Josiah’s hands closer to his face, and he turned his head to kiss the insides of their wrists. “We don’t have to speak to them; either of them. I just want to know. I want to know that the Ryes are fed enough. Did you see her? Her name is Carmina!” He sat up a little. “He named her after his poor plane! He must miss it as much as I miss Affirmation. I need to know that they’re alright.”

His head sagged a little. “And I just want to know if Joseph is even alive.” Jacob sat up as well, and Josiah lay back to give them space.

The redhead leaned in, clasping the back of John’s neck and pulled him forward. Their kiss was gentle, careful, caring. When they part, he leaned down to push their foreheads together in a long-loved picture of affection. “We’ll scout them out, Johnny. We will find them.”


	2. Who in the night time?

They went South first. There wasn’t as much ground to cover, and John’s renewed guilt caused him to stay awake, or sleep with vicious nightmares.

Jacob, paranoid as usual, booby trapped the entrances to their compound because not a-one of them had any intention of leaving someone behind, even as a guard. He also gave their moose instructions.

The three of them packed up every vegetable, fruit, cut of meat, seed they could spare and started walking south. John, now a whiz with the shitty bow Josiah’d made, killed rabbits or birds or the weird pink weasels as they walked.

A day in, they crossed a river and had to spend a night drying their boots by the fire. They had been handmade, hand-tanned leather and stitching, and not very durable. Josiah and John had made three pairs, after tracing each of their feet. It had been wildly funny tracing big, bad Jacob’s feet: turns out the man was ticklish in a very giggly and endearing way.

However, neither Josiah nor John were shoemakers, so they weren’t really the soundest of footwear. Once they’d dried, the men took off again.

It was another day and a half later, packs bulging with food and hanging with fresh kills, when they saw camp smoke in the near distance. They holstered their weapons, and Josiah pulled out a length of off-white, undyed cotton fabric. He held it carefully over his head. He went first.

John gave a strangled gasp when they broke the tree line and saw their destination. Jacob literally had to lean over, hands on knees, so he could laugh heartily at John’s offended spluttering. Poor Josiah had frozen and turned a very questioning eye on both men.

“That—That was my house!” John’s voice cracked halfway through, causing Jacob to clutch his gut and squat, laughs becoming breathless.

Josiah turned back to the compound in front of them, walled-in by mismatched sections, a large sign reading ‘Prosperity,’ and, barely visible under tarps and extensions, a ranch house. Very shortly after John and Jacob’s outbursts, several heads and several guns peeked over the tops of the outer wall. Including a few that honestly looked like they launched sawblades or other projectiles.

Josiah very vigorously waved his white fabric. Both Seed brothers shut themselves up.

“Hey! We come in peace!” Josiah shouted. Jacob rolled his eyes and muttered _really?_ under his breath.

A small head of greying black hair popped over the parapet, and the woman attached yelled, “Go away!”

John gasped again, taking an involuntary step forward. The guns on the walls turned to aim at him. His hands raised, as did Josiah’s and Jacob’s. “Kim?” His voice was plaintive. “Kimiko Rye?”

Kim Rye, up on the wall, crossed her arms on the wood of the wall. “What the fuck do you want, John? Nick told you to stay away.”

“I—“ John trailed off, voice dying in his throat.

Josiah put a hand on his shoulder and edged in front of him. “We brought food and supplies. We’re doing pretty well up to the East. Thought we could share the bounty, maybe some information.”

Kim sighed heavily and rested her head on her arms, as if exhausted. She waved a hand, and the large gate started to rumble open. There was a small swell of angry noise from beyond the wall until Kim turned to glare down into the compound. John started forward first, until Jacob forcefully shoved him into line behind him.

Jacob kept his hands rib-height and open as he passed the gate but couldn’t help but look around in approval at the space beyond. John did not look up from his feet. Josiah turned to watch Kim descend the inner stairs.

He raised a hand to shake as soon as she drew even with them. She crossed her arms instead. He let his hand drop with a wry twist to his mouth.

“I’m not a cultist.”

“Yeah, Nick told me about you. I’m his wife, Kim.” She was terse, teeth gritted.

“Oh! Carmina’s mom, then?” Josiah twisted to look around, seemingly oblivious to the guns directed his way. Just behind him, John had tucked his hands into his armpits and Jacob had rested his own on top of his head while he inspected the compound. “Where’s she at? She’s great!”

“You do _not_ need to see my underage daughter!”

Josiah whipped his head back at Kim’s shout. The other two turned to look as well.

“Oh no, ma’am.” He raised his hands in surrender. “No, no. I’m gayer than tree full of chickadees, Mrs. Rye.” He waved his hands for emphasis; his Southern twang swelled in his panic. “I was just wonderin’ ’cause she’s a little firecracker, ‘n’ I was hopin’ she’s doing alright.”

Jacob had slinked up behind Josiah, and at this, he slung his arm very possessively around the shorter man’s shoulders.

“Tree full of chickadees, Mrs. Rye,” he drawled, letting his Georgia drawl pull every word almost mockingly wide. He cocked his head; the red braids along his scalp gleamed in the cloudless sunlight.

“Ugh, so you all got more Southern in your time underground, huh?” Kim grumpily crossed her arms, but there was a tiny, almost unnoticeable uptick to the corner of her mouth. She turned toward the main house, made a gesture, and a tiny brunette blur sprinted towards them.

“Carmina!” Distress seemingly forgotten, Josiah turned to wave enthusiastically at the short teen.

She stood by her mother, bouncing eagerly. “Hi! Hi Mr. Josiah!” She grinned. “What are you guys doing down here?”

“Ah, sweetheart…” Josiah’s eyes darted to Kim. “Uh, Carmina, you can just call me Josiah, or Josie.”

“Josie? Isn’t that a girl’s name?” She tugged on her hair. Josiah chuckled.

“Eh,” He shrugged one shoulder. “Been called that my whole life. So, ya know.”

She brightened. “Okay, Josie!”

“And to answer your question, me ‘n’ Johnny ‘n’ Jay came down with some supplies. Wanted to make sure y’all were getting by alright.”

“Johnny?” Kim muttered to John, who shrugged helplessly and blushed. Kim recoiled in shock at his blush.

She shook herself. “Hey Carmina, why don’t you and I show these guys where we keep our supplies so they can show us what they brought?” Just as Carmina nodded eagerly, an angry voice rang out.

“Hell naw, Kim!” From across the yard, Nick Rye stomped towards the little group. John shrank even further into his slouch. “You can’t show ‘em our supplies! They ain’t our friends!”

Before Kim could reply, Jacob stepped forward, his hands open and careful. “Listen, Rye. We had bad blood before, my family did horrible things before, and Johnny and I, well, we admit and recognize that we went about this whole thing _wrong_. I ain’t excusing it.” He put his hands up in a shrugging gesture. “But that was before the world burned.” He looked around at the little community, the gardens struggling to grow, the thinness of the faces around. “We have a better hold on the land than you seem to, we have fresh and preserved meat.”

He turned back to Nick. “We’ve got seeds, supplies, and knowledge you ain’t got. Josiah,” He choked a little laugh. “ _Josie_ here can turn your whole operation around.” Josiah huffed grumpily behind him.

His hands slowly lowered. “Let us make amends. Let us help you.”

Nick’s face was a thundercloud, eyebrows furrowed, mouth a scowl, but eyes inscrutable as ever behind his sunglasses. Jacob had his hands open at his sides, Josiah’s were loose at his sides, and John… John had his clasped together at his waist almost in a beg.

Nick tore his glasses off his face and scrubbed his eyes. “Fine,” he mumbled as he put them back on. “Seein’ as how you’re the only damned Seeds to actually apologize,” he muttered to himself. John bit back a gasp as his eyes grew wide, but he stayed silent.

“Go on, Kimmy, show ‘em where to store the stuff they brought.” He turned partly away, sighed. “An’ if they’re gonna teach us some stuff, might find them some rooms. It’ll probably take more than a day.” He turned then and stormed away.

John turned back to Kim, hands still in place, and gave her a tiny, tremulous smile. She rolled her eyes, but as she led them off, Josiah noticed a small lightness in her face. He clapped a hand on Carmina’s shoulder as she bounced along beside him. Jacob brought up the rear and, unnoticed by the others, but not Sharky Boshaw hiding in the corner, sighed out in obvious relief.

Now unburdened by all but their own supplies, having seen their pretty ingenious refrigeration and storage units, designed by Hurk and Sharky of all people, Carmina skipped up the steps to the upper floor of the original ranch house.

“We don’t have a ton of space, but we can probably find at least two rooms for you guys.” She paused. “Might have to bunk a few people to open up the second- “

Josiah cut her off. “Darlin’, we shared a two man bunker for 7 years, we can share a damned room.” He chuckled.

“Oh! I guess that’s true.” She stopped outside a door. “Um, but… This room only has one bed.”

“Is it a big bed?” John’s eyes were weirdly intent. Jacob recognized that, despite the changes to the building, this had been John’s room originally.

“Um, yeah. It was here already when we moved in. We did check it for radiation!” Carmina rushed to reassure them.

Jacob started chuckling deep in his chest, and Carmina startled a little when it turned into full-blown laughs. Josiah rolled his eyes as John looked offended.

In answer to Carmina’s bewildered look, Josiah just huffed and said, “This used to be John’s house, an’ I bet this used to be his bedroom. Pro’lly why it’s kept empty.”

“Oh! Are you the reason there are so many planes in here?” She cracked the door open, and dusty and weathered as it was, it was still recognizable as being _John’s Room_. Shades of faded blue, worn dark wood… Planes.

Jacob was about to laugh harder, but seeing the tortured, devastated look on John’s face stopped him.

Josiah gently took Carmina’s hand. “Carmina, hun, thank you for showing us up here, but I think we need a bit of time to settle in.” He carefully pulled her to the door.

She leaned in to whisper to him on the threshold. “I’m sorry Mr. John is sad; I would’ve figured out something else if I knew it would hurt him.”

Josiah smiled down at her. “I know, Carmina. He’s not sad. It’s called nostalgia. Remembering the past sometimes hurts.” He waved down the hall. “We’ll get settled and come down to get to work.”

The teen nodded, said, “They ring the bell at sunset for dinner,” and wandered away down the hall.

Josiah turned back to the men in the room and shut the door securely behind himself.

Jacob, hearing the door click shut, immediately pulled John into a hug, and dropped his mouth to the top of the brunet’s head. John, having been holding tightly to himself, collapsed against his brother’s chest with a sob. Soon, he was wracked with them, shaking not-quite-silently. Josiah caged him in from behind, holding him just below his brother’s arms, looping his arms around his stomach. He pressed his mouth, not kissing, on John’s neck, letting him feel his and Jacob’s steady, calm breaths.

They stood that way for a long while, and Jacob understood. John hadn’t had a lot that was his in his life. As a child, everything was a hand-me-down from Jacob or Joseph, their parents not caring enough to give him things of his own. The Duncans never gave John anything for free, or anything that couldn’t be taken away. After, not even John’s body had felt like his own.

That’s why Joseph had turned a blind eye to John’s excess in building the ranch house. He was a manipulative fuck, but he was their brother and had, in his way, loved John dearly. The ranch became _John’s_ , in a way the bunker never could have, full as it was with other people. At the ranch, John decided who came and went, what went where, and if he wanted to be alone in it, he could order every guard outside.

He had been ferociously angry when the deputy had taken it, but up until he’d been dumped half-dead in Josiah’s empty bunker, he’d fully believed he’d get his home back. So, for him to see it now, 14 years later, fully overtaken by others, then to find his room… The room he’d designed and planned specifically for himself, overtaken by time and decay…

Jacob nuzzled deeper into the deep brown hair below him.

It took several minutes of silence, steady breathing, and firm support for John’s breathing to slow. Finally, he let out a huge sigh, hot breath brushing Jacob’s chest.

“I guess I’m sort of glad everyone saw me as the boogieman. Means they left my room alone.” He chuckled dryly.

Jacob gently disengaged himself. “Kinda surprised they didn’t hack the bed to firewood or something.”

“Naw, after seven years in a bunker John built, thinking he was dead? They were probably too exhausted to care anymore. Just closed it up for ghosts.” Josiah pulled away a step as well, and John turned a quizzical eye on him.

“What do you mean, a bunker I built?”

Josiah shrugged. “Well, I know a bunch of them out there didn’t have their own bunkers. I remember that first year, you kept worrying yourself about pregnant Kimiko Rye, or poor Mary May, neither of whom had a place to go. There’s a lotta people down there that either shouldn’t have survived or should be real sick with radiation by now, if not dead. You said the Deputy cleared out your bunker, but not that she destroyed it.” He shrugged again. “I’m thinking the townspeople knew that and hightailed it up the mountain.”

John sighed, eyes wet again. “Do you think they’d tell us if we asked?”

“Mmm… Maybe Little Rye, or Mrs. Rye,” Jacob murmured.

“Little Rye’s got a name, Jay.” Josiah snorted and wandered over to a lovely dark wood chair in the corner. Plopping his pack on the floor, he sat to start untying his boots.

“I thought we were going back down to start helping?” Jacob asked as he took off his own pack and stripped off his buckskin jacket (dyed dark to cover the natural pink tone of the mutant deerskin).

“I would honest-to-heaven rather walk barefoot than wear these for another minute.” John snorted, but then his face turned speculative.

“I wonder…” He walked towards a door in the far wall, dropping his kit as he went. Upon opening the door, he let out such a high-pitched shriek of joy that both Josiah and Jacob choked on laughter.

“What’s up, baby?” Josiah followed him into the dark room and laughed incredulously. “Oh no, we’re gonna have to build a cart, ain’t we, t’ bring all this shit back.”

“Oh shit, it’s his closet, huh?” Jacob shook his head and followed the men in, leaning against the doorjamb so he didn’t block the sunlight lighting the interior. John was lovingly stroking his hands down the lines of shirts and pants, stroking over the suits and jackets and shoes. Josiah was fingering a shirt next to him, a deep green silk button-down. He was frowning.

“Baby?” John didn’t respond, pulling open a drawer full of rolled silk ties. “John?” John finally looked up at him. “We can’t take all this with us.” Jacob held his breath.

For a moment, John’s face fell into a mask of sadness, but then he shook his head and it cleared. “I know, Josiah. What use is a Prada suit after the end of the world? Where am I gonna go in loafers?”

“Okay, doll. This is what we’re gonna do as one of our tasks while we’re here. We’re gonna go through this closet, find everything useful to wear. Then we’re gonna find everything that is useful as scrap fabric or bandages. Then we’re gonna give the rest to Prosperity. For like, mattress stuffing or cleaning rags or something.”

John sighed. “Fuck, a two thousand dollar linen summer suit is gonna get shredded into bandages.”

The three of them laughed, and Josiah slung an arm around his waist.

“Let’s get downstairs, boys, and show these people what we got.”

John smiled slyly at the both of them, and said, “Before we do, I think I’ve got a gift for you both.”

Carmina was lounging in the great room as the three men trouped back downstairs. She startled, having expected them to take longer. She startled again when she realized that they’d changed outfits. Gone was Josiah’s faintly pink wool sweater, Jacob’s leather boots, and John’s patchwork jeans.

Josiah was wearing a faded Cornell tee shirt, dated some ten years before the Collapse. Jacob had tan, sturdy boots with thick rubber soles and a tight button-down flannel with the sleeves rolled up, and John was wearing crisp, almost-new denim and short black boots. Josiah was barefoot.

“Oh! I thought you’d be longer!” She hopped up from where she’d been rereading an old poetry book. “Where’d you get the clothes? You didn’t have those in your packs when you took out the supplies.”

Jacob laughed, evidently in a very good mood. “No one touched John’s closet.” He walked past her towards the front door. John followed, a small smile on his face.

Josiah stopped beside her. “Yeah bunch of stuff up there. We’re gonna go through it all, see what is worth saving and what’s for scrap. Some of your guys are similar size to John, so we’ll figure out who gets what.” He smiled down at her. “Couple of real nice things up there for you too, I think. Flannel pajamas you’ll grow into.” He snorted. “You’ll be about John’s height by eighteen.”

Carmina laughed, a bright, happy sound, and led Josiah out into the sunlit yard.

Sharky hadn’t been sure how he’d feel seeing a Seed again. He’d heard from Nick and Kim that Joseph was out there somewhere, traipsing around with his hippies.

But John and Jacob, appearing out of the mists like freakin’ ghosts. Nope, hadn’t even thought he’d have to formulate a response to _that_. Abso-fucking-lutely did not help that both men were somehow more attractive than before, and that guy they’d brought along was pretty damn hot, too.

The three of them, trailing Carmina, came out into the yard. Jacob’s hair was long, really long, and pretty intricately braided like some sorta ancient warrior. It sparkled in the sunlight like fire. Sharky’s fingers twitched. Just as he turned to retreat from the very idea that he wanted to touch the Wolf of the Whitetails’ pretty, pretty hair, Hurk called out to him.

“Hey, cuz! Come on and say hi to the newbies!” He was standing beside a slightly-frowning John, who probably took offense to being called a newbie in his own home. Sharky jammed his hands in the pockets of his flannel vest and slouched over to the group.

“Hey, Uncle Shark!” Carmina’s sunshine-bright smile never failed to pull a smile on Sharky’s face.

“Heya, Baby Shark!” He ruffled her hair, ignoring the twin snorts from John and the newcomer. “What’s all this commotion? What’d the Carm drag in?”

Carmina grinned again, her bright white smile splitting her face. “You probably know Mr. Jacob and Mr. John, and this is Josie!”

Jacob poorly tried to hide a laugh at the nickname, but _Josie_ , the broad shouldered, lean, younger man gamely stuck a hand out for Sharky to shake.

“Charlemagne Victor Boshaw IV, but everybody, even my momma, has always called me Sharky.”

“Josiah Hozai Stone. The, uhh, first.” They both giggled a little. “You can call me Josiah or Josie, as you like.”

Sharky snort laughed and gently punched the man’s shoulder. “Well damn, you fit right the fuck in then, don’t’cha? Right initials and all.” Josiah flushed high on his cheekbones and shrugged helplessly. He viciously cleared his throat. Sharky was entranced.

“Momma and Daddy, they were good Southern Christians before I came out gay. Then they were good, Southern Christians who ain’t have a goddamned son, no sir.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Carmina’s face was devastated, and she almost opened her mouth to speak.

“Okay,” Josiah’s voice was a little strangled. “I heard it was you two who devised the refrigeration. Can we go look at that now?”

Sharky seized on the excuse to leave Jacob and this terrible conversation behind. “Yeah! Some a my best work! Uhhh… Seeds, you should go talk to Kim to see where you can help.”


End file.
